The Fortune of Freedom
by PrincessPuff00
Summary: One wants to neglect his past and start new, ... One desires for equality , ... One is yearning for freedom ... and ...one is longing for adventures only found in dreams.
1. Disclaimer!

**Disclaimer! Hi I'm new to the great world of fanfiction and I am making my own story from scratch. However I was inspired for this story by an actual historical person in the revolutionary war and in a video game. For those of you in US history, you probably are familiar with Hugh White. (He was significant in starting the Boston Massacre) and he will be a character in this story. I know in fanfiction you're supposed to design your own plot and stories around other authors but I'm being Miss original. I'm sorry about this but I have been aching to share this story I designed in my brain for years! I might as well have downloaded wattpad, but oh well, too late!**

 **My story takes place mainly in Boston Massachusetts in the late 1700s. There are multiple main characters with other extra characters incorporated. Please feel free to comment and use my characters. Make sure to credit me! This story is about the American Revolution and it covers other political matters as well. Even though this takes place in the colonial times, it incorporates modern customs for entertainment and satire. Grammar back then is too complicated for us with the modern toungue. ;) Feel free to imagine the characters in any way you like as well because I will describe them little.**

 ***This story is rated M mainly because the language that is used. Adult humor/topics are present, but it's certainly something a 7th grader can read. Lol.**

 **Thanks and Enjoy-**

 **PrincessPuff00**

 **PS- Feel free to use anything in the story plot, characters, etc. But I will really appreciate if you give credence to me! XD**


	2. Fortune of Freedom: Chapter 1

**Here is the first chapter!**

 **Just so you know this story includes offensive language. If you get offended easily it's best advised you do not read any further!**

 **This is my first fanfic, kindly judge. However, I am open to suggestions to help improve my story. Please share your feedback I would love to hear! If there are any grammatical errors, I would like to know. Comment, Comment Comment! Anyways to the story...** K **ing George III passed the Quartering Act in 1765, which forced colonists to house British soldiers. All the Patriot's were livid at this news and the loyalists were having a celebration. Dragoons that were fit enough were picked for the large journey to the American colonies. Hopefully this will help explain the plot a little bit. ;) The way the people talk is a little more modern in the story but oh well.**

* * *

Hugh for once in his life is booming with satisfaction. He most recently got accepted into the world's best army. Years of hard work definitely paid off.

He peered out to an endless sea, inhaling the scent. England's signature bleak sky is nothing new to Hugh White. The fogs heaviness blocks the horizon and hides striking evening skies. Hugh is silently waiting with his regime to be loaded onto a ship. The vessel advance will be sailing to the big city of Boston. Putting all of the other soldiers onto the ship is a long and grueling process and it's annoying him. Hugh's patience is thinning by the minute. Escaping England will take an anchor off his chest for sure. England's never-ending downcast will vanish and fade away. The appeal of American weather is ideal. Hugh's Captain finally, yes finally, directed the regime onto the vessel. They will depart very soon. Climbing on to _advance,_ Hugh takes the last glimpse of Britain, before he descended below deck to find his bunk.

Hugh peeked through the door and found his bed. It was quite quaint and didn't have enough length for his taller frame. _It be nice if they had larger bunks..._

Muffled voices broke his stupor. "I miss me wife at home only if those fuckin' colonists would behave theyselves," said a deep voice. Hugh could far disagree.

"Me too mate. Me wifey here is gonna have her firstborn child and I'll be gone," groaned a squeakier voice. Hugh rolled his eyes, redcoats have quite the improper grammar. Will these buffoons room with him? He hopes not.

"That's rough, me lad," said soldier one.

 _It's my, not me!_

"Tell me about it," muttered soldier two.

"Hey mate how bout' we find our bunks," suggested the deeper voiced soldier.

"What a spiffing idea," piped soldier two. Hugh wondered how the kid's wife could be pregnant if he's barely started puberty. It will always be a mystery to him. He then heard faint footsteps and those same gruff voices of the men approaching. The two scumbags just trudged into his bunking quarters, how lovely. Hugh makes sure to thank his good luck. The dinging of the ship bell signaled _Advance's_ departure, which snapped Hugh to attention. He realized it's time focus on himself and he shouldn't even bother with those half-wit asses. But he's aching to know the young lad's age. This is too good.

"Just wondering mate, but how old are you?" equipped soldier one. Hugh spotted some nearby rum and decided to take a sip. Just as he was about to open the bottle, he overheard the teens reply.

"Fourteen," replied the prepubescent teen. Hugh almost spit out his rum and suppressed a chuckle. The poor kid's married. Shit, his own family couldn't even find a good spouse. Not that it mattered anyway. Hugh wouldn't prefer being stuck making babies with an airhead anyways.

"You expecting a child? Me lad, your voice has barely begun to crack," teased the robust, older gentleman. The boy did not pick up on his gentle tone.

"What in the hell are you sayin' mate? i'm a man and I have deep enough vocals to prove it!" fumed the boy. Hugh smirked, here we go.

"Whatever you say BOY," mocked the fellow.

"I'm a MAN," retorted the teen.

"Boy!"

"Man!"

"Boy!"

They continued to argue back and forwith. The longer it continued, the more irritated Hugh got.

"Enough already! You bastards been arguing about whether an adolescent has enough man in him to be a father. If you damn well wanna find out, why don't you pull down his fucking pants and see for yourself!" snapped Hugh. The two men looked at him as if he were a bat out of hell.

"Mate calm down, eh?" suggested the old chap.

"I am," replied Hugh.

"Well your yelling," said the boy.

"Because your annoying," retorted Hugh.

The boys face flushed in protest. He sucked in a breath to say something, but Hugh stopped him in his tracks. "Now now," Hugh noogied the boys brown locks. "There is no need get upset. If you continue to act the way, the captains will be sure to handle your shenanigans accordingly. It's a good thing you left your wifey here at home. You clearly aren't fit enough to be a dad," simpered Hugh. He wasn't wrong and the other man in fact agreed with him. The older fellow (soldier one) began to silently hush the young boy and told him to man up. Hugh finished the last touches of his bed and then jogged up top, leaving the other two down below.

The boy rolled his eyes,"Talk about uptight."

"Tell me about it," mumbled the man.

He wanted a huge break from those two fools. A break by his definition, means never seeing them again. Being above deck provided escape from reality. England's long gone and the sun's peeped its head out of the clouds. The waves which are now teal, occasionally rock the ship. A gentle breeze whipped Hugh's face, causing the ocean's salty scent to spew his cheeks. The view really is different from home; Atlantic Ocean's horizon seems to extend forever. What if it actually does? It's unknown to him. The adventures of the sea will soon await and then America's next. He's heard tales of pirates, typhoons, tribes and other dangers. Would he ever encounter these? It's a mystery for sure. Hugh continued envisioning what's to come in the colonies, that he forgot about the time. When he finally came out of his trance, the sky had streaks of pastels and the ocean turned a deep indigo. The sun continued to sink over the horizon like an egg yolk sliding off a pan. Once the sun was down, the atmosphere turned to dusk and stars soon followed. As shining stars winked back at him, Hugh felt vulnerable as if the world was trying to swallow him whole. Even though he is susceptible to this feeling, he loathes it and tries to avoid it all together. But tonight, putting his feelings aside seems practically impossible. Hugh's thoughts travel back to his life, before he joined the dragoons. Fresh anger begins to coil in the pit of his stomach. Then that damned vulnerability feeling appears once more. Disliking the feeling it brings, Hugh pushes it aside and calls it a night.


	3. Fortune of Freedom: Chapter 2

**Disclaimer! This chapter I introduce you to a character who is a slave. There will be no discrimination since its offensive and I will not describe her. Since I want you to imagine her in anyway you like and I don't want to come across offensive. Back then many irish slaves were in America too and many were from all over. Irish slaves and especially the ones from the continent of Africa were busted onto the ships and abused. I'm sorry to bring this up, but this story is in the past, so there is going to be some sad topics in here. If there is any issues please let me know in the comments.**

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The chirping of birds brought Veronica to her senses and awakened her from her deep slumber. Being exhausted from the day's work yesterday, Veronica laid on her bed trying to recollect all of her fantasies, visions, and dreams. She rubs her groggy eyes, and re-envisions one. She married a prince and her family never suffered from poverty again. Her family was lavished with riches she couldn't imagine, but the moment she peers around her room, reality hit her with a thud. Her family isn't the wealthiest and they each do strenuous jobs to barely get by. Veronica has to do laborious work for a milliner. Her dad is a blacksmith and her mom is a washerwoman for the wealthy. She looked through her rusting cracked mirror and checked her reflection. Her own gray eyes were staring back at her and plus her hair was a strangled mess. Grabbing her hairbrush, Veronica combs through her golden strands and puts it up into a braided bun. She slipped on her ripped, leatherworking boots and glimpsed at the time. The cuckoo clock read five past eight. "Dammit!" _Sarah said she will for sure-fire me if I'm late again! Ve_ ronica then ripped the door open and then sprinted out into the chaotic streets of Boston. This town's chauvinism will be sure look down upon her because "girls are too weak to run." She silently rolled her eyes at the ignorance of this pathetic place. Veronica's parents always told tales of Scandinavia and how women in viking tribes could run free. They often fought and were accomplished warriors. That freedom would be nice...

August's dark skies threatened a downpour and a rumble of thunder caused Veronica to propel even faster. She felt a faint drop of rain on her head just as she passed the seaport. The water had mist coming off from the mornings humidity which made it abnormally still. People running the outside summer markets rushed to push their carts of goods under a nearby pavilion or inside the nearest building. Veronica cursed this weather... _Just great the only day I'm late to work it has to storm? My bun is going to get ruined. So much for looking professional._ She then passed the farmers market and that's when the rain really started to pour. People huddled under the pavilions and inside the stores, watched her with grave amusement. Some even gave the chance to shoot her distasteful glances. Ugh the chauvinism is awful... real awful.

 _Only half way there..._

Veronica's skin was already near soaked and she still had a little ways to go. The bleak skies made Boston's tall buildings have an ominous look instead of the usual decorative design. Thunder sounded again striking Veronica with fear. She then passed more Boston row houses like her own and was nearing the millinery shop. Veronica's sides were beginning to ache and her breath was shortening. Being soaked made Veronica uncomfortable and she needed to get indoors as soon as possible.

 _Almost there.._

Lightning flashed and a crash of thunder soon followed, causing Veronica to forget her fatigue. The pounding of her heart hurt her chest and adrenaline took over. The shop's door was nearing. Veronica yanked it open and stepped inside. A huge swarm of relief spread over her body easing her pain. The dryness of the millinery soothed Veronica's soul. She then noticed a middle-aged women scrubbing the millnery's floors.

* * *

Phyllis has been working all damn day. The aching in her nails was increasing as her skin was beginning to peel. _First day as a slave and I'm already busting my ass! Damn Sarah for putting me up to this garbage, absolute bull-shit in the slightest!_ Phyllis is in a rotten mood to begin with because she was separated from her family a week ago in Virginia. Which pains her heart. Scrubbing the floors pushes Phyllis into her own deep thoughts, making her miss Virginia even more. She loathed her master Sarah for buying her, loathed her for making her work, hated her for everything, hated America. Phyllis took a quick glance out the window and realized that she is lucky. Rain pattering on the roof and the wet August storm made her glad that she gets to work indoors all year. _If I was in Virginia, I will be working out in this dump._

Phyllis used to work on plantation in the "dirty" south and dreaded every minute of the strenuous labor there. If something wasn't done right, her master will be sure to tell her through a whip. She remembered how her father lost one cotton seed once. One cotton seed! And Master John brought out his lash, cussing and whipping her dad out of consciousness. She recalled the late nights in which her family and close friends took ointments and remedies to tend the wounds. She remembered how her mother was once dragged into a shack and got rapped by her master. Her mother's screams echo her head and still haunt her to this day. The warmness of her tears started to escape her eyes but Phyllis paid no notice. She was too wrapped up her brooding, to hear the door bells jingle and see Veronica step inside. A soft, feminine voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Are you okay?" Phyllis jolted upright out of her trance. Being a little fazed to see a stranger other than Sarah, Phyllis could not speak.

Veronica continued to persist. "Are you alright ma'am? Ma'am?"

The girl radiated innocence with her angel hair and big doe eyes. Phyllis wondered if she passed out and ascended to heaven. Nope! What an interesting experience that would be...

She finally snapped out of it. It was nice to hear someone, other than a family member talk to her with respect for once. "Huh, oh, I'm quite alright miss."

Phyllis really wasn't okay, but Veronica wasn't buying any of it.

"You don't look alright, tears are coming out of your eyes. Hand me the bucket and I will wash the rest of the floor."

"You work?! Most pretty women like you are already wed!" Phyllis was shocked.

"Yes, my name is Veronica and I will be working along with you. My family is quite impoverished, so I have to make a living. And besides half the men in this town are cold-hearted bastards"

Phyllis's mouth was gaped open. She never heard a women swear much, let alone a charming one! So much for the innocent vibe. While seizing the opportunity Veronica grabbed the bucket and began to wash. Phyllis didn't complain.

"Do you know where Sarah has been?"

Phyllis wanted to protest Veronica for doing her dirty work, but all of her was grateful to stop.

"Um, Sarah left for a few errands and got caught in the rain."

"What time did she leave?" asked veronica, hoping it was before seven.

"Sarah left at around 6:30 in the morn."

"Yes!" squealed Veronica. "I need just a little luck to get by." However a sudden worry took spread throughout her veins. _What if Sarah caught me running._

The bells of the door immediately ceased their conversation.

 _Sarah..._

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 **Yes I bet you all are guessing Sarah's a mad bitch! Time will tell. Back in the 1700s women sadly had few jobs but they did work in a millineries which sold hats, clothes and garments for men and women alike. Millineries were mainly run by women.**


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